Surface Tension
by socroy
Summary: Post PoT movie story. Eiji, Oishi, sexuality, ships, snap... everything, really! Complete.
1. Chapter 1

The second Oishi sees Eiji fall backwards over the side of the ship, something inside of him freezes and dies.

They always say these things happen as if in slow motion, in films and memories, but this doesn't ring true for Oishi at all. All he catches is a glimpse of red as Eiji topples over, and he can't be sure he's seen it at all until Momo leans over to grab his sempai, and they both fall the long distance into the choppy black waves below. Oishi doesn't actually see this part, he doesn't hear their bodies hit the surface… he's wedged up against the wall between a shrieking lady and her overweight husband. He yells out for Momo, for Eiji, and his body acts on its own as he desperately tries to push through the crowd, to look over the water and see a head resurface, to know that Eiji isn't drowning, or unconscious, or stuck under the ship, oh _god_… bile rises in the back of his throat and his whole body is wracked with intense cold panic because he can't _do_ anything, he's trapped in a sweating, shouting, jostling mass of people who pay no attention at all to the terrified boy who tries to tell them that his best friends have been captured by the sea.

For the first time in his life Oishi experiences a loathing for humanity as passengers clamber over one another to be saved in overcrowded rescue boats. Nobody's listening, nobody _cares_ that the person dearest to him out of everyone in the whole world is freezing in the icy water… the cabin crew ignore the panicked shouting of the boy with wild green eyes and throw him into a lifeboat with the rest of the terrified people.

The boat is lowered down, down towards what Oishi is imagining with hysterical frequency to be Eiji's last resting place. He turns to the person next to him, to tell them to move so he can look over the side, and realises with merciful relief that it's Taka-san. Taka-san will understand, Taka-san will know how important this is and help him work out what to do. But no, this is wrong, Taka-san is looking at him as though he's speaking Dutch, gripping him by his jersey and telling him to _slow down, Oishi, calm down, and speak slowly _so he can understand. Oishi tries hard not to yell in his frustration, takes deep breaths and swallows; Taka-san looks at him with widening, worried eyes. Together they lean over the side and scan the sea for their team mates, the search made increasingly hard as the sky begins to darken. The sea churns violently, and the wind whips against their jerseys. If Oishi's feeling this cold now, he can't imagine how Momo and Eiji are coping submerged in water, and he grips Taka-san's arm as they huddle together in silence. Taka-san squeezes his arm occasionally, when he draws in deep, shuddering breaths, and in retrospect he feels grateful for the contact which prevents him from falling into hysterics.

They sit like that for far too long. With each long minute that passes, Oishi feels his heart drawn tauter, like elastic, highly strung and aching for relief. When Taka-san nudges him, and points out two bedraggled figures in Seigaku jerseys being pulled up onto another lifeboat, Oishi feels himself just slump, like his innards are collapsing in on one another. He can't speak for a little while, and they sit in silence that is punctuated by the groan of metal and the shrill voices of people still on board the dying ship, so very high up, so far away. He just stares at the figure in the distance, at blue and red and pink, the colours blurring into one another in the odd twilight. He doesn't feel cold anymore, but that doesn't stop him starting when Taka-san's warm hands touch his own numb fingers, telling him to stand and prepare to board another boat, a proper rescue craft that will hold more people.

His legs can hardly hold him up but he forces himself to move.

They find Eiji and Momo.

Oishi can't help himself. He grabs Eiji and holds him, tighter than any casual hug they've shared before. He still can't form any words to say, but they aren't needed, just plunging his fingers into Eiji's wet hair is enough, just burying his face in Eiji's shoulder is sweet relief. He clings to him for far too long, he feels Eiji tense at the contact but he doesn't care. Suddenly he wants to tell Eiji everything, about every memory they've shared and every feeling he's ever had. It doesn't happen, though, Eiji protests with a "_Mou_, Oishi, I'm _fine_!" and Oishi reluctantly pulls away, staring into blue eyes that look just as wild as his own.

He tries to restrain himself but it's very hard.

Seigaku find eachother, aided by the unexpected arrival of Hyotei's tennis captain. The Atobe family has its own private boat in the area, and Atobe Keigo himself has brought a small craft to aid the rescue effort after hearing a call on the radio. His ship is heading back to Japan, he says, a small vessel but luxurious and he offers the team the few spare cabins on board. He offers them food and warmth, and Tezuka hardly needs to issue forth with an official "yes". They all board Atobe's boat and don lifejackets, and speed over the sea, away from one sinking ship to another of safety and rest.

The trip is silent but for the roar of the motor. Nobody meets eachother's eyes, they're all too busy trying to comprehend and reflect on all that has just happened. Atobe informs them that the communication over the radio is positive, everyone on board the luxury liner has now been accounted for. Oishi hardly hears him, he's studying Eiji's shivering form and sitting as close to him as he can with their thighs pressed together. He tries to offer his own jersey for Eiji to wear, under the blanket he's been wrapped in, but Eiji sighs in exasperation and repeats himself, "Really, Oishi, I'm _fine_!" He murmurs words devoid of meaning, about warmth and health, but Eiji's not listening, he's too highly strung to listen. Oishi draws back and resigns himself to just looking, but he wonders why his heart has started to ache again, a desperate echo of what it was like to see Eiji from so far away and not be able to touch him.

Eiji draws his hand away after Oishi holds it for too long, and jiggles his knees up and down while he sits. Adrenaline is still pumping through his veins, he's geared for action and he doesn't feel cold, no, not at all, even though he's soaked and shivering. He wants to do something, tell the police about the gambling racket they uncovered, arrest Sakurafubuki and his accomplices, swim back and save his bag with all his clothes in it, play tennis, clean his _room_ for heavens sake, anything but this barren silence that has overcome his friends. Oishi's acting strangely too, reaching out to him far more than usual and looking at him with raw emotion barely restrained in his eyes. It scares him and he doesn't want to contemplate what Oishi's feeling, so he brushes him off and doesn't think about it.

He tries to initiate a conversation, but it falls flat, everyone pulled back into their thoughts as they try to make out the burning ship as it recedes into the distance. Now Eiji's starting to feel cold, and the rough plastic edge of his lifejacket is starting to bite into his skin. The wind makes his hair fly and whip around into his face, and he can't see the stars properly as they come out because his eyes are still stinging after being open under saltwater.

They finally make it to Atobe's private boat. It's huge. It has a spacious deck, and a meeting room and twenty-odd cabins for any business guests Atobe's father chooses to entertain.

Eiji's hands are trembling as he grips the metal ladder to climb aboard, and he hates it, he hates feeling cold and weak. He shakes even more when Oishi puts his hands on his back to guide him.

Once on board, he realises with sudden clarity that he's absolutely starving, and hardly says a word as they're invited into the small galley and given steaming bowls of miso soup to drink. He burns his mouth as he swallows greedily and forgets to be annoyed when Oishi pushes him his own untouched bowl, barely muttering thanks before he starts to drink more slowly.

Oishi keeps looking at him, hesitantly reaching out to touch him and then pulling away. Eiji does his best to ignore it.

Atobe suggests that they record everything they remember while it's still fresh in their minds, to help any investigation that might come out of the disaster. Tezuka agrees with this, but Fuji looks grim and says that they need rest, and often memories are sharper after a period of time to reflect on them. He says Eiji and Momo need to be given dry clothes, and that they should sleep now and talk in the morning. Eiji turns towards Oishi and waits for him to say something, but he doesn't, he's just staring blankly at the linoleum surface of the table. He opens his mouth to fill in the silence but is cut off when Oishi finally raises his head and agrees with Fuji, everyone needs warmth and rest. Oishi asks if Atobe has any spare clothes for them, and Atobe says it's already been arranged, and there are few things laid out for them in the spare cabins. Tezuka removes his glasses and runs his hands over his eyes, suddenly looking as tired and anxious as the rest of them. He thanks Atobe for his help, and suggests that the team head off to the cabins to sleep, congratulating them on their hard work. He looks as though he wants to say something else and the air is thick with unspoken words, but finally he replaces his glasses and stands. Everyone follows his lead, thanking Atobe and moving to the doorway. Atobe tells them not to worry, and that they'll talk in the morning. They bid him goodnight.

Oishi and Eiji are still close by one another's sides as the teams breaks off into groups of two. They soon discover that the 'cabins' are more like fancy two-person suites, and when Oishi flicks on the lights the room is bathed in a calming warm glow. Oishi shuts the door behind them, muting the noise from outside and Eiji hugs himself, shivering, looking around. Suddenly the room is too silent and they both turn to look at eachother, and speak at the same time; Eiji remarks that Atobe-san has really outdone himself this time, and Oishi asks if Eiji should have a shower, and get warm, and whether he sure he's alright.

Oishi's shoulders relax a little bit and he smiles at their synchronisation, his first true smile in days. Eiji smiles tentatively back, and they feel themselves slowly approaching a sense of normality.

"Oishi," Eiji says, "I'm all wet."

Oishi jerks a little upon hearing Eiji's words, and quickly scans the items laid out on the neatly made beds, picking up a towel and a pair of one-size-fits-all pajamas. He places them into Eiji's arms, and Eiji finds himself looking up to study him. Oishi's face is unusually pale and tight, with grey patches under his eyes that make the green all the more vivid. He's still not breathing quite right, and Eiji's heart still clenches when he accidentally catches a glimpse of that raw feeling in his face… maybe it's because of this that he impulsively steps forward and rests his forehead on Oishi's shoulder, pressing arms full of towel and cloth against his chest. Oishi's hands move on their own to hold him, and he closes his eyes, just for a second. He still doesn't want to think about anything, shoving the events of the past few hours into the back of his mind for later. He doesn't want to do anything either, because suddenly he's overwhelmed with incredible tiredness, and it's all he can do to pull away from Oishi's arms, take a shower and fall exhausted in to bed and dreamless sleep.

The next day, the Seigaku regulars sit to eat breakfast in the galley, and prepare to write down all they remember from the day they stepped on board Sakurafubuki's luxury cruise. Oishi is the last to join them, hurriedly taking his place beside Eiji at the table and touching his fingers to Eiji's arm.

"Hey," he says, "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Don't be stupid," Eiji murmurs, not quite looking at him. "You really needed to sleep. And I can look after myself."

He adds this almost as an afterthought, and shifts in his seat so Oishi's fingers fall from where they're resting against his arm. Oishi looks at Eiji avoiding his gaze for a long while, before he too shifts in his seat and picks up pen and paper.

"I know you can."

Eiji shivers involuntarily, and it's not because he's cold.

He starts picking fights with people.

Seigaku work together in steady silence, giving form to their memories on paper. Eiji watches as Tezuka writes everything he knows about the cruise in methodical dot points. He watches Kaidoh as he draws diagrams of the ship's layout and watches Inui as he frowns and taps his pencil against his head as if it will make his brain calculate faster. Eiji snaps at Momo when he reaches past for an eraser, and grunts when Momo tears his paper by rubbing too hard. A part of him feels bad about the sheepish expression on Momo's face, and how Oishi tenses when Eiji slams his pencil down beside his blank piece of paper. He quashes the feelings though, he's still not ready to approach them and he announces to the team that he's going to the bathroom. Oishi nods at him, and licks lips that have gone dry.

Eiji stands on the deck and looks over the sea for a long time. It looks flat and blue in the pleasant sunlight and nothing like the raging black monster he struggled against last night. Sakurafubuki's luxury cruise is a black speck on the horizon and Eiji finds it difficult to process that he was ever on it, that he was ever pushed overboard or held at gunpoint, or five centimetres away from a bullet through the head.

He grips the metal railing and squints to shield his eyes from the bright light reflecting off the plastic deck. It's too clean, it's too surreal, blank like his feelings, _missing_ something. Surely he should be feeling more than frustration… he thinks of Oishi, what Oishi would be feeling and finds himself inexplicably furious, gripping the railing tight and grinding his teeth as the black speck disappears out of sight. He mistakes fear for anger.

Eiji has finally decided to sit down and write, to get everything out of his system in one go when he returns to the galley to find the regulars preparing lunch.

"We decided to take a break," Fuji tells him. "Do you mind cutting up these onions?"

Eiji forces a smile and nods, trying to let his anger simmer on the backburner. He steps up beside Momo to grab a board and a knife, and starts to chop.

Oishi by his side in an instant, touching his shoulder to let him know he's there.

"Are you alright?" He asks, and Eiji is reminded too much of yesterday.

"Yeah," He mumbles, under his breath, but the knife slips on the greasy surface of the onion and narrowly misses slicing his fingers.

"_Oishi! _You shouldn't _stand_ there!" He snaps, as Momo starts with an "Eiji-sempai! Be careful!"

Eiji finds it hard to bite back more angry words, staring at the wooden board with an odd ringing in his ears. He's done it again, he realises, caused that raw expression to show in Oishi's face, and it's confusing now because he thought he was just angry at the criminals on the luxury cruise. A well of nebulous emotion is steadily rising within him, causing his gut to clench. It's when he drops the knife down with clatter and tells Momo to shut up that he recognises that he needs to be alone, he needs to be fair to his friends and take himself away so he can sort himself out.

"I'm sorry," Eiji mutters. "I just need some time out. I think I'll go and lie down."

Oishi's expression makes Eiji's heart squeeze and contract even more than it did yesterday. He avoids thinking about it all the way back to their bedroom, where he shuts the door, flops backwards onto his bed and lets it all wash over him like floodwater.

Eiji lies on his back, tracing soft rings around his bellybutton like he did when he was a child, to calm himself. The room is mostly silent, the only sounds managing to make their way into his hearing are muffled and unintelligible. It's a far cry from the roars and crashes of the tormented sea, and Eiji breathes in deeply again as he starts to sort his memories out. His fingers are smooth on his stomach as they travel round and round, and he stares at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. He doesn't remember much about being in the water, or even running around on the ship… all of that is a blur of speed and adrenaline. He strokes the soft hairs of his stomach, grimaces as he remembers running around like a naïve action hero, and feels his pulse quicken as he recalls the sound of a bullet ricocheting off metal.

He remembers the look on Oishi's face as they ran away.

This is all Oishi's fault, he thinks angrily. If Oishi hadn't kept touching him like he needed help, always, _always_ beside him, then he wouldn't be feeling like this. Oishi's been touching him all day, there hasn't been a moment when he hasn't felt or anticipated feeling a strong hand on his arm, on his shoulder or back, or fingers just brushing to tell him things, _here's your towel, can you pass me my sock, are you alright, I'm here Eiji, I'm here._

He toys with the waistband of his boxers, and can't get Oishi's face out of his head.

He doesn't realise his fingers are moving idly in the nest of red curls further down below when he starts to truly feel frightened. He suddenly remembers Oishi standing beside him, both of them held at gunpoint and imagines it all going wrong; Oishi lying in a pool of his own blood, Oishi lost, ever-present Oishi gone from his life like a piece of his heart cut away… and he clutches at himself with a gasp to make certain he's still alive. This has been happening a lot recently, thinking of Oishi and getting hard, pleasant thoughts drifting through his mind, silly impromptu grins gracing his face as he thinks of Oishi's grin or how Oishi forgot his lunch that one day, or how Oishi just can't eat cauliflower or gummi lollies. This time is different though, panic and desperation are lacing his feelings and its sweet aching release each time he strokes himself and works off his agitation. He thinks of Oishi's hand on his arm and breathes erratically as his own hand moves faster, he thinks of Oishi's fingers brushing away his hair, on his neck, breast and thigh and he nearly cries out. He's messing up the blankets with his feet, as his toes curl and flex, and it's feeling good, _so_ good through the panic, and he wants to tell Oishi all about it, _this is how you make me feel Oishi, never stop touching me, never go away_… but _Oishi_ is the only word to make it past his lips, and it's Oishi who has just opened the door to their room, Oishi who has come to check on him, Oishi who is looking at him in shock, Oishi who is murmuring apologies red-faced... and Oishi who has just closed the door and run away, leaving him to lie alone in the semi-darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Oishi returns to the galley where everyone is starting to clean up after lunch. He steps up beside Momo and throws himself into washing the dishes, scrubbing with a determination that he usually reserves for tennis.

Momo finishes putting away the cups, and leans in to ask a quiet question,

"Is Eiji-sempai ok?"

"Ah, yeah…" Oishi murmurs, distracted, "Yes, yes, he's fine. He just needs a bit of rest. That's all."

He squeezes more green detergent into the sink and takes another plate, scrubbing and scrubbing so as to clean off more than just the food scraps.

It doesn't help.

It doesn't help, because in his minds eye Eiji is sprawled half-naked across a mattress, with wayward red hairs clinging to his sweaty brow and his hands on himself, one down his boxers and one caressing his breast, pink and flushed and biting his lip in pleasure. And, oh god, dangerous heat is pooling in his stomach and below again, he can't turn around, and he shouldn't have come _back_, he should have taken a quick break on the deck to recover from the image but he didn't because he was panicking and he's still panicking _now_.

With shaking hands he throws open the little window above the sink but the cool air that wafts into the room offers little respite.

Oishi's always known he's been attracted to Eiji. It's just the way Eiji is. Eiji is a livewire, a person-magnet, people drawn to his energy no matter where he chooses to flit to next. He's lovely. He's also close to Oishi in a way that Oishi never expected, somehow simply human and refreshingly genuine in a way Oishi never expected he would be.

Oishi daydreams about it all the time, pleasant thoughts during class, the sharing of their space, their things, secrets, ideas… daydreams that merge into and twist around reality because they're like that anyway, so close together, sharing. It's the other part of Oishi's dreams that are less clearly defined, that which is inspired by the view of Eiji's back, for instance, from the back of the court… the way Oishi can trace his spine from the glimpse of skin below Seigaku tee as he jumps, up and up over sweat-soaked cotton, all the way through to the delicate tangle of red curls that cluster at the base of his neck. That, or Eiji's mouth, which is incredibly enticing apon finishing a glass of iced tea, or the way his shirt rides up over the smooth skin of his stomach when he flops over onto Oishi's bed to complain about this, that or the other. All of this adds up into an unconscious display of casual sensuality that Oishi can't help but notice more and more.

Subconsciously he dreams about it; what would kissing Eiji _feel_ like, he wonders, mouth twisting into a stupid smile as he finishes his maths homework. Maybe he'd do it in the clubhouse, or quickly on the way home from school… or maybe it would be Eiji kissing _him_, because Eiji's the one who jumps on his back all the time, maybe alone in his room or at a festival under the stars or in the middle of the courts at the Nationals, where their friends and family and teachers and peers can see how much he loves just being with this person…

_Idiot,_ he thinks, still smiling, and moves on to question 12.

More recently it's been a little more complicated. More and more it's a question of what Eiji's abs would feel like, with his hand under his singlet, or kissing more than just Eiji's lips… its always been alright, though, because Oishi knows how to separate this part of his dreams from reality, just idle daydreams, not much more.

At least he did until just over five minutes ago, when Oishi Shuuichiroh was confronted with the most beautifully erotic image of his adolescent life.

Oishi thinks he knows exactly how Eiji was feeling, now, as he sits at the table and tries not to fidget. Seigaku are putting the finishing touches to their recollections of something that is now very irrelevant to Oishi, and he pretends to read his statement over and over while his mind resides elsewhere.

He's not as flushed now, thank goodness, he's managed to cool down a bit, but it hasn't stopped him from worrying. Eiji still hasn't returned, _is he ok?_

_Of course he is,_ he thinks, _he's probably just as embarrassed as you are._

Oishi and Eiji have never talked about their bodies very much. Oishi wonders if he's overreacting… he's heard the boys talk in the locker room, crude discussion about body parts and their functions, girls and boys, desire and shame. Momo and Arai joke and jibe about it all the time, and it's never bothered him before. _That's because attraction's not a part of it,_ he realises with sudden clarity, and he's back to square one because Eiji's flushed and sweaty in his head again and his heart is thumping just as hard as it did when he thought Eiji was dead.

Eiji comes out much later, when everyone is relaxing on deck in the dusk of the evening. Oishi's never seen Eiji's face tainted with so much shame before, and it makes his gut twist and churn, as do his memories.

Eiji smiles sheepishly and doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"Oishi…" he says, softly, so that no one else can hear. Whatever else he has to say is cut off, a little too quickly.

"Hey… it's ok, it's ok," Oishi says, too enthusiastically, "It's ok, right? I mean, everyone does it and you're… I mean, it's a really stressful time for everyone and we all…"

"I'm an idiot, huh." Eiji says, and something between them feels so wrong, so disconnected that Oishi's face falls, mirroring Eiji's crestfallen expression. He has to do something, he thinks, and touches Eiji's hand briefly, not too long because otherwise it'd feel wrong and uninvited. Oishi cringes inwardly because that, too just reinforces this awful feeling… it never felt wrong holding Eiji's hand before. Eiji seems to know this too, judging by the way he tenses, and Oishi touches him again, risking it, anything to get their connection back.

"It's ok," He says, face flushing. "I'm really sorry for just barging in without even knocking. I can't even imagine what it'd be like falling over the edge of a massive ship like that."

Eiji's lips twist into a sad little grin. "No. Stupid Oishi. _I'm_ stupid. I'm just… do you… do you forgive me?"

"Of course," Oishi murmurs, but he's thinking of Eiji again, the flushed-and-panting Eiji, trying to reconcile the two in his head.

"Really?" Eiji asks. "Oishi… I'm really sorry."

"Ah, no, don't be," Oishi replies, but he can't hold Eiji's hand for much longer. Eiji's so close, he's blushing, it'd be so easy to draw him near, feel him pressed flush up against his body…

When Momo approaches them with a cautious grin and asks if they want to join him in a game of cards, Oishi seizes the excuse and draws his hand away in a flash.

Oishi can't ever recall feeling this aroused.

It happened once, on a school excursion to the mountains when he was younger. He'd only realised a while into the piece, the vibrations on the bus and the warm air wafting slowly from the heating vents lulling him into a state so pleasant that it would have made a fond memory had he not been so embarrassed by the fact he had to sit with his bag over his lap for the rest of the journey.

That was different, though.

This is fierce, and sharp… having discovered the lack of two kings and an ace in his deck of cards, Momo suggests a game of snap to counter his original offer of poker, and Oishi's heart leaps up his throat every time his hand crashes down over Eiji's.

It's the one time he wishes they weren't so in synch.

Eiji's pressed up against his side as they sit at the galley table, he wonders _why…_ of course, Eiji's bound to be feeling insecure and wanting reassurances. In any other instance Oishi would feel completely prepared and willing to give them, but this one time, in this surreal state he wishes Eiji would sit opposite him, away from him so he isn't aware of every inch of Eiji's thigh pressed against his own.

_Snap!_, and this time Eiji's hand lands over his, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling of rough palm over knuckles and hyper-sensitive skin.

"Ah, sorry Oishi!" Eiji says, with an apologetic smile, misinterpreting. "Not quick enough!"

"It's ok," He says, smiling back, trying not to shift in his seat.

It's torture, it really is. Oishi thinks of offering Taka-san help with preparing dinner, but he's not entirely sure he'd be able to walk without everyone noticing his awkwardness. Already it's uncharacteristic of him to sit and play and let everything else bustle around him but he just can't, it's hard not to think of anything but the uncomfortable heat between his legs and the way Eiji smells of clean boy beside him (he must have showered) and the way Eiji is trying so hard to be normal, to connect to him again.

The one thing blocking the connection is something that Oishi doesn't want Eiji to find out.

Dinner is even worse.

When Oishi finally brings himself to stand, and get some cups to help set the table, Eiji is there beside him like his own shadow. Eiji follows him when he refills his bowl with rice, Eiji is constantly and surreptitiously making sure that his glass is full and he's having enough to eat.

There are so many people together in the room, it's hot and stifling and making him panic. One of them's going to notice soon, notice how he can't look Eiji in the eye because all he can think of is how badly he wants to cram his partner up against a wall and kiss the life out of him.

He's too polite to make an early exit, so he sits through what seems like an eternity of panic and desire, trying not to choke when Eiji absentmindedly reaches over to adjust his collar.

When they switch off the lights and slide under the blankets of their respective beds, Oishi anticipates sweet respite in the form of privacy and sleep. It doesn't come.

The room is absolutely silent, but Oishi feels electricity thick in the air, thrumming through his own body. He can just hear Eiji breathing, but only just… what he can't hear his mind supplies for him from his memories, and he is _not_ going to move, he is _not_ going to twist his body and fidget, he's going to will this ridiculous arousal away and hopefully forget about it, and things will go back to the way they used to be.

Yeah, right.

Waves of panic rise and abate within him, each more intense than the last, and he fears with a sort of dread and urgency that he can't stave this off forever, his body is going to surrender for him and he shuffles and turns in a determined effort to lay still and fight it off. He spreads his legs and lies flush against the mattress, cheek pressed hard up against the pillow, breathing through his nose… he twists onto his side and bites the side of his cheek in an attempt to will away the intense feeling. The third time he catches himself rhythmically moving his hips in search of friction, he grinds his teeth and balls his hands into fists, screwing his eyes shut. He can't let Eiji become aware of this, no matter what.

It's when he realises that his hand, traitor that it is, has stolen down his body to move between his legs that he throws off his blankets, bolts for their shared bathroom and slams the door behind him.

-----

Eiji's first thought is that Oishi must be sick, because he's positive Momo didn't cook their chicken properly because half of it was still pink… not that it's Momo's fault, he was just trying to help.

Eiji's second thought is that he wishes his hearing was as good as his eyesight, because _something's_ going on in there, and he notes his own feelings with mild interest. For some reason he's not worried at all but overwhelmed with an incredible curiosity, it's almost as if he knows exactly what he's going to discover. He pads through the dark space, over narrow beams of moonlight that line the floor through the blinds, and softly opens the bathroom door.

Oishi is making sounds like he's never heard him make before.

His eyes and nose are buried in the crook of his elbow, his whole body slumped against one arm that's supporting him against the wall. As Eiji's eyes adjust to the blue darkness he makes out more and more of the curious scene… the sheen of light from the sweat on Oishi's neck and arms, the boxers crumpled in messy folds around his ankles. Oishi's trembling, head bent as if in pain and he's trying so hard to be quiet, taking little breaths that are shallow and choked and uneven. He's stifling little moans and he's working himself so oddly, so strangely, yet in a way that's so uniquely Oishi that Eiji can't help but be completely and utterly fascinated.

So intrigued, even, that he ignores Oishi's horrified gasp when he turns around, discovered, and ignores the single protest Oishi makes before he presses his whole body up against Oishi, against the wall and just _stares_ at him, noses millimetres away.

He stands there shivering, pressed into Oishi, thigh to thigh, breast to breast. Oishi's only wearing a singlet and boxers so Eiji can luxuriate in the heat radiating off his body, the feel of fine hairs when their naked legs brush, Oishi's ragged breathing.

A thousand expressions flicker over Oishi's face in those few seconds, it's like Eiji's looking straight into the source of that raw feeling he's been catching glimpses of all day. Fear, panic, hurt, arousal, want… suddenly the channels of communication between them are thrown wide open, a tide of suppressed emotion conveyed through a single intense gaze. All Eiji's feelings tumble over one another in their haste to be expressed, he fists his hands in Oishi's singlet as he gasps.

Oishi cries a little, soft low sounds that show just how much he's struggling to keep it all under control as well. It's at that moment that gazing isn't enough, and Eiji darts his hand downwards in search of heated flesh while he slides his mouth over Oishi's parted lips.

He cries a little back at Oishi, and sparks and tingles fly the length of his spine.

Eiji doesn't really know what he's doing, but everything is faster and more intense than anything he had expected. Oishi's legs tremble as Eiji moves his hand on and over him in time with the strong strokes of his tongue inside his mouth. They're both shining with sweat now, but still Eiji keeps going, pressing as much of his body against Oishi's as humanly possible, ferociously kissing him, stroking him, shuddering as Oishi moans and tries to kiss him back through the pleasure. It's wet and messy and inexperienced and hot, and they're still looking at eachother even though the intensity is nearly unbearable. Eiji can tell that Oishi's nearly at the end when he suddenly breaks the gaze and buries his face in the crook of Eiji's neck, whimpering. He clutches at Eiji's back and presses with urgency into Eiji's hand, abandoning any last pretence of control. Eiji reads the signals, takes Oishi's lips in a final messy kiss that has them both groaning into eachother's mouths. He then grips, strokes, once… and holds Oishi as his knees buckle and his head cants to the side with a cry.

They sink, clutching at eachother, slowly, slowly, crumpling together onto the cold linoleum floor.

Oishi sits there for a while with his eyes closed, struggling for breath.

"Eiji," He says, in a voice that's hoarse and low. It's evident he's never heard himself sound like that, as he clears his throat and struggles to sit properly, backing himself into the wall as if he might dissolve into it if he tries hard enough.

"Eiji." He tries again, but it's so soft, Eiji has to struggle to hear the next part.

"Why did you do that?"

Eiji stares. "Didn't you want me to?"

"_Yes_… I mean no, no, I didn't mean… I can't… Eiji, you can't just…"

Oishi's body language is all strange and wrong, he's curling in on himself in a way Eiji's never seen. Eiji doesn't like it, it makes him feel sick, like his stomach is trying to crawl out of his throat, and he doesn't like _that_ feeling either. His face shuts down, mouth forming into a hard line and he sits back on his haunches.

"It felt good, right Oishi? It's what you needed, right? Then that's all that matters, isn't it, then that's all that…"

"No it's _not!_"

The sudden interjection takes Eiji completely by surprise.

"It's _not_ all that matters, Eiji! How can you just… just…" Oishi's voice cracks, and he stares determinedly at the light fittings, blinking furiously.

"You can't just go and do that, and then not… not…"

"Not _what_, Oishi? Do what? Touch you? You're not making yourself very clear!"

"_I'm_ not making myself clear? Eiji, you… you… you just…can't say nothing and then…"

"If you didn't want me to do anything then you should have said!"

Eiji notices his voice cracking too, like his cool façade and he starts to panic as well. "You've been touching me _all day_, Oishi, you've been following me everywhere and standing so close to me and looking at me all the time…"

"I was worried about you, I could have…"

"…when really I was fine, you were overreacting Oishi, you _always_ overreact! You're such a… "

"_I could have lost you!"_

Eiji's never heard Oishi crying before, not this kind.

His shoulders are slumped and tears are dribbling down his cheeks, and Eiji feels hot prickling at the back of his own eyes.

"You m-mean far more to me than just… this… ah… sorry…"

Oishi rubs at his eyes in an effort to compose himself. Eiji can't help but go to embrace him, forgetting about the sweat and the mess and the tears. Oishi allows their limbs to tangle together, slumps against Eiji's shoulder and just cries and cries and cries.

The sweat is drying cold on their skin. Eiji presses their bodies together to keep warm, sniffling a little himself, feeling the sobs wracking Oishi's body lessen in frequency until all that's left is an armful of shivering young man.

"Eiji," Oishi murmurs hoarsely, pulling back, "I don't want it to… did you really mean it, you know, about it being all that mattered, because I couldn't…"

Eiji puts his hands on Oishi's cheeks and turns his face to look into his eyes.

"Oishi. I wouldn't do this with anybody else. Only you."

Oishi swallows.

"You mean more to me than any of this… you know," He says. "I… didn't want it to be like this. If it was ever… like this. I wanted to show you properly. I… didn't want it to be just… me."

Eiji's eyes turn unexpectedly bright, and he ducks his head to hide it, laughing a little.

"We're so stupid, Oishi, look at us. Sitting like two idiots freezing in the corner of the bathroom."

Oishi laughs a little too, wiping his eyes.

"Look, let's go back where it's warm. Here, we'd better get you cleaned up, Oishi…" Eiji reaches over to grab a roll of toilet paper, tearing off a portion to give to his partner, who looks mortified.

"Oh Eiji, oh god, I'm so sorry, this is…"

"What? It's only… you know. It's fine. A million little sperms all dancing around on your-"

"Eiji!" Oishi looks aghast, snatching the paper from Eiji, but can't help a twinge of a smile threatening to play around the corner of his mouth.

When they're both clean and changed, and in the warmer space of the bedroom, they stop to look at eachother, hesitating, expecting.

"Do you want to…?" Eiji asks, looking suddenly vulnerable, holding up one corner of his blanket.

"Do you?" Oishi finds that he doesn't need an answer.

It's a new sort of negotiation now, as they work out whose arms go where and who cuddles who, but after the initial awkwardness it feels just as natural to Oishi as holding Eiji's shoulder, it feels just as normal to Eiji as touching Oishi's hand. Oishi remembers where they are, in unfamiliar territory, remembers what happened only a day or so ago and draws Eiji closer to him. The proximity still makes him tremble, as do the hiccupy after-tremors of tears.

Tingles are still dissipating and dissolving throughout his body, and he tries hard not to think of what just happened in the bathroom, the simultaneous feelings of guilt and elation are too hard to reconcile. All he really wants to do is go home, he realises, back to where they feel safe and normal, and where Eiji won't be looking pale and tired.

Eiji kisses his cheek, quickly, before he rests his head against Oishi's breast.

The next morning Momo knocks on the door on his way to the kitchen.

"Sempai, breakfast time!"

Oishi wakes up comfortably, warm and rested after a deep, dreamless sleep. It takes him a while to realise just what is curled up against him, his arms around another soft body, knees interlocked and toes touching. He opens his eyes and studies the pale face of the individual dozing centimetres away from him.

It feels like dawn, or heat, or a balloon inflating inside his chest and up his throat, any number of cheesy metaphors that would do little to describe the incredible happiness he suddenly feels… _it's wrong_, he thinks, but he can't stop the stupid grin that refuses to be wiped from his face. Eiji shifts, makes a rumbling noise in the back of his throat and slowly cracks open bleary blue eyes. He smiles instantly at Oishi smiling.

"What?"

"I'm just… really… nothing," He replies, forgetting not to stare.

Eiji makes a little movement, drawing his head closer and then hesitating. Oishi waits a little, unsure, before he slowly, slowly closes the gap, anticipating Eiji moving away.

They move their mouths against eachother's, softly, eyelids fluttering closed, delighting in the feel of their bare legs and chests pressed gently together. Oishi touches his top lip to Eiji's, slowly, tilting his head to stroke, caressing… until Momo bangs on the door a second time, clearly having been sent by the rest of the crew to wake them.

"Coming, Momo!" Eiji yells hoarsely, grinning, but looking at Oishi with something different in his eyes, deeper and darker, insecure.

"Eiji," Oishi says, and the smile fades from Eiji's face.

"We'll be ok,"

"Yeah," Eiji replies, looking into Oishi's eyes for a good long while, before he cracks a true, cheesy grin.

"After we have breakfast, anyway."


End file.
